


Only You (johnlock fanfiction)

by LAuRAohrightthatmakessensenow



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, johnlock fanfiction, mystrade, sherlock johnlock fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LAuRAohrightthatmakessensenow/pseuds/LAuRAohrightthatmakessensenow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wow, what a prick. His flat is messy and he leaves his teacups everywhere and has nobody noticed all the printers? - John Watson is just meeting Sherlock and as time goes by, realizes that maybe there's more to him than his anti-social deducing self. (i don't have very much written yet, but i plan on introducing a few more ships/OTP's and maybe even a few frickle frackle chapters!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Wow, what a prick. His flat is messy and he leaves his teacups everywhere and has nobody noticed all the printers?

I walk up to the door of Mr. Holmes. Apparently we live together now.

Okay, I have to admit, he's kind of cute and he's very talented. But most of all, he's got this manner of walking. It's not necessarily pride, but it's almost sex . . . .

My thought's are interrupted by his sudden appearance at the door. He looks down at me and smiles slightly.

I have to make a mental note of how shocking his smile is. It lifts his cheekbones to a height that seems almost impossible.

He runs a finger under the rim of his lustrous curls and, turning his head slightly, looks at the traffic going by. I have to put more weight on my cane so I don't show him how weak my knees are at his presence.

He's gorgeo . . . . 

"Hello. Were you just coming in?" he asks, stepping past me. Turning around, he says, "I was just out to buy more crisps. Ms. Hudson is at the neighbor's house and she won't answer her mobile."

I am slow in replying, so he interrupts my stuttered thoughts. "Would you like to come along? It'll be a bit of a walk, but I think you could handle it."

"Sure . . . yeah . . . . " I stammer, looking down at my damned leg.

He starts walking, and I hobble along to keep up.

"I didn't mind going to the shop because I have something to talk to you about."

We cross the street.

"Really? What is it?"

"We have a new client."

On the other side of the street, I'm still waiting for him to finish, but he doesn't.

"So, who is this client, and what do they need?"

He places his ~~beautiful muscular~~ hand on the shop door handle and says, "Ms. Wessleton."


	2. Chapter Two

"So, what does her baker have to do with anything?"

Sherlock and I are at our flat, tea in hand.

Sherlock stands by the window, light streaming onto his lean frame. The buttons on his purple dress shirt are straining as he reaches up to place his forearm on the window frame.

"Ms. Wessleton had just ordered three pies of different flavour." Sherlock leans farther, bending a knee. His hip is sticking out slightly. "The baker, Tad Murthur, closed his shop on April 25th, just before they baked Ms. Wessleton's pies."

"So?"

He turns to look at me, his galaxy-filled eyes staring straight into the depths of my soul.

"Tad Murthur went missing on April 26th."

I look at him, waiting for him to continue, but my face becomes hot as we stare.

I manage to leak out, "So, what do we do?" 

A knock. We look at the door.

A shared glance.

He strides to the door and opens it to reveal a thin lady with auburn-dyed hair, bags under her eyes, and bony fingers wiggling by her thighs.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?"


	3. Chapter Three

She sits.

I sit.

Facing each other.

"I ordered an apple, a blueberry, and a cherry pie."  
"You were the last person to order anything before his shop closed. Do you think there could be a connection?" I aim the question toward Sherlock, but he stands at the window.

I try to focus on the interrogation so I don't faint from his sunlight-stricken figure.

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Well, I walked into his shop and ordered the pies. That's when he started talking about closing the shop . . . I just didn't think it'd be so soon."

"How long have you been seeing Mr. Murthur?" Sherlock asks this, casually sitting down in his chair.

"Excuse me?"

Sherlock turns to face Ms. Wessleton. "Oh, don't play stupid with me. I see the stress, it's dripping off of you like an overflowing pail of water. Not just any normal customer would worry this much about a baker."

She makes a face that gives away her loss of pride.

"I don't know what your talking about." Ms Wesselton states indignantly.

"Don't you now?" Sherlock stands, crosses the room, and closes the door. "Well, I believe that

_Wednesday Curve_

would say differently."

"We've been seeing each other every Saturday for the past two months."


End file.
